Houdini
by A.Quill
Summary: Dr. House does not need a new addition to his diagnostic team. Dr. Cuddy would beg to differ. How long will it take him to realize that sometimes a little sleight of hand is necessary to keep things running smoothly? Caution: Season Two Spoilers
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own House, M.D. or any of the characters/scenery/props/plotlines associated with said show. They belong to people who are far more brilliant (and richer) than I am. However, the piece that you are about to read is, in its entirety, mine.

* * *

_The easiest way to attract a crowd is to let it be known that at a given time and a given place some one is going to attempt something that in the event of failure will mean sudden death.  
- Harry Houdini_

The Diagnostics Lounge at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was unusually quiet. The chair of the department, Dr. Gregory House, misanthropic cripple extraordinaire, was nowhere to be seen. However, his fellows, Drs. Robert Chase, Alison Cameron, and Eric Foreman, were gathered around the lounge's largest table with a large stack of patient files set before them.

"How about this one," Chase said, reading from the folder in his hand, "Woman in her early thirties is being treated for breast cancer when she develops a severe gastro-intestinal problem. Vomiting, bleeding –you name it, she's got it."

"Sounds like an ulcer and a bad reaction to chemo," Foreman said, "House will never go for it." Sighing, Chase added his file to the growing pile of rejects.

"Young girl develops severe rash on her torso," Cameron read, "Rash is accompanied by dizziness and frequent blackouts."

"How old is the girl?" Chase asked, "It could be a case of chickenpox or mumps gone wrong." Cameron flipped back through the pages of the file. She skimmed over a paragraph then sighed.

"Patient is six years old. No record of a MMR vaccine." She paused to take off her glasses and toss them on top of the now-rejected file. "It's no use. There's nothing here that's going to satisfy House."

"No kidding," Foreman said, "Unless a patient with a bizarre, debilitating disease turns up with a complete medical history in the next ten minutes we won't have a case ready in time for when House gets back from his meeting with Cuddy."

"You'd think that a sick person would be easier to come by what with us being in a hospital and all." Chase said as he stood to get himself a cup of coffee. "Is it just me or did we used to get a lot more references from other departments before?"

"We _did_ get a lot more references. Then House went and ticked off that surgeon. Ever since then Oncology has been the only department on speaking terms with us." Cameron said, "We're even being shunned by the Gynecologists."

"The tumor was four inches across –what made House think that the surgeon could possibly remove something that size without causing damage to the lung tissue? And then how he reacted after he found out," Foreman said, shaking his head, "It was insane."

"Still, the surgeon had no right to go badmouthing our entire department to the rest of the hospital. Just because House overreacts doesn't mean that the three of us do." Cameron pointed out. Foreman and Chase made vague noises of agreement. The sound of clanking soon filled the room as Chase resumed his ongoing struggle with the coffeemaker. Cameron watched him for a moment, almost as if she were trying to decide if she ought to be amused or annoyed by his incompetence with small appliances. In the end it was annoyance that won out. "Chase, just sit down before you hurt yourself," she snapped, "It's programmed to make a new pot every forty five minutes." After shooting a venomous glare at the coffee maker, Chase slumped back into his chair. Just as he did so, the door to the lounge was flung open.

"Greetings, minions," House said as he limped into the room, "Have we hit the patient jackpot yet?"

"There's nothing in any of these files," Chase said.

"Get new ones."

"But there _aren't_ any new ones," Cameron protested.

"Of course there are," House said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, "You just aren't looking in the right places."

"This is absurd. If you hadn't gone after that surgeon -" Foreman began.

"That butcher had it coming." House snapped.

"He was _not_ a butcher!"

"So what do you call someone who removes two layers of undamaged tissue and punctures a lung?"

"It was a difficult procedure. No one was expecting perfect results."

"No one was expecting to have a dead patient, either." House said pointedly. Foreman was about to retort when the door was pushed open once more. This time it was Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the hospital's Dean of Medicine, who entered the lounge.

"House! What the hell do you think you're doing here?" she barked.

"Wait, don't tell me," House said, making a face of mock concentration.

"I told you to wait in my office."

"I wasn't in the mood for a midmorning sex-fest –the leg's been acting up. Can we have a rain check?"

"In your dreams."

"So I'll take that as a 'no?' That's alright, wouldn't want to impose on that busy schedule of yours, if you get my drift."

"Shut up, House. Your Cardiologist is here."

"Great. Now tell them to go back to whatever grimy rock they crawled out of." House said. He limped over to the communal sink where he poured himself a glass of water and withdrew a prescription pill bottle from the pocked of his blazer. After fumbling with the bottle for a moment, he managed to shake out a pair of pills which he downed quickly. Chase was the first to take advantage of the pause in the conversation.

"Wait, did you say that there's a Cardiologist here to see House?"

"Yes, a Cardiologist is waiting to see him. She'd just arrived when House decided to pull his vanishing act."

"Is it another fellow?" Cameron asked, "I thought that it was hospital policy to only have three at one time -"

"Wait, did you say _she_?" Chase interrupted. He quickly earned glares from both Cameron and Cuddy. "What? It's a difficult field. I was just-"

"You were just caught being a sexist pig," House pointed out. Chase shook his head in frustration.

Cuddy sighed. "She is not another fellow. I asked her to come in so that she could-"

"Steal my job," House finished, "I've already told you that I neither want nor need help running this department."

"Oh you need help alright," Cuddy snapped, "Foreman's stint told me that much."

"So why did you decide to drag an outsider into this?"

"Fantastic, now you're a misanthrope _and_ a xenophobe! House, incase you haven't noticed, the entire hospital is avoiding you. You need to work with someone who has something vaguely resembling people-skills so that you can start to fix this entire mess."

"Cameron has people-skills!"

"Cameron's already been blacklisted for working with you, as have Chase and Foreman. This department needs someone new."

"She has got a point," Foreman offered.

"Oh, stop being the voice of reason, would you?" House snapped.

"All I'm asking is that you give her a try." Cuddy pleaded, "If you hate her by the end of two weeks I promise that I'll get rid of her."

"Let me off clinic duty for the rest of the week and you've got a deal," House said. A tense silence settled over the room. The young doctors stared at Cuddy wondering if she were desperate enough to give into House's demands. The older woman bit her lip and crossed her arms. House smirked at her discomfort.

"Fine." She said at last, "You can have a week off. But if I get so much as an inkling that you're harassing your new team member, you'll owe me an extra _year _in clinic hours."

"Got it: the Cardiologist is off limits," House said, "Speaking of which, where is the bugger?"

"Dr. Gordon is finishing up her paperwork at the nurses' station. She should be here any minute." Cuddy replied. House dropped the bottle of pills that he was holding, his eyes widening in shock.

"Dr. _Gordon_?"

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A/N: Reviews are nice, but I'm not going to force you to make one. Part two is in progress. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer (again): I do not own House, M.D. or any of the characters/scenery/props/plotlines associated with said show. They belong to people who are far more brilliant, successful, and altogether better off than I am. However, the piece that you are about to read is, in its entirety, mine.

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_Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.  
-Aristotle_

House's fellows stared at their mentor with confused expressions etched into their features. Though they had long since become accustomed to his sudden outbursts, the trio had never seen him drop his precious pills in shock before. What was even more alarming was the fact that he hadn't bothered to pick the bottle up and return it to the safety of his pocket yet. Instead the Vicodin lay abandoned on the carpeted floor as its owner faced-off with the Dean of Medicine with a look not unlike the ones his employees were wearing fixed on his face.

"Dr. Gordon?" House repeated at last, "Dr. _Laura _Gordon?"

"Is someone calling for me?" a strange voice asked from the lounge doorway. The doctors immediately snapped their gazes to the source of the noise. It was then that they noticed a tall, somewhat lanky woman leaning casually against the panel of glass that served as a divider between the office area and the outside hallway. A strange yellow-orange glow from the halogen lights on the ceiling surrounded her only to rebound off of shoulder-length red hair and the lenses of square, black glasses. The overall effect was a startling one, but the focus of everyone's gaze was directed elsewhere. Indeed, the occupants of the room seemed almost mesmerized by what was behind those glasses: a pair of crystal blue eyes. Eyes that were nearly identical to those of a certain stupefied diagnostician.

"Ooh, stunned silence," the woman said in a half-mocking tone, "I never get tired of that. I trust Dr. Cuddy didn't mention I was coming?"

"Well I tried to tell him," Cuddy protested, "but you know how he is-"

Smirking, the woman pushed herself off of the wall and made her way over to where House was standing. "Oh I know. I know all too well," she said as she came toe to toe with him. Their eyes locked and for a moment neither of them moved. The young doctors and Cuddy continued to watch in stunned silence as a slow smile spread across House's face.

"I'm not starting it," he said

"Well I did it last time," the woman, Dr. Gordon, replied with a smile of her own, "It's your turn now."

"Fine," House said petulantly, "But you owe me lunch."

"I know, it's in the rules. Now come on –I haven't got all day."

"Right, you've got to hobnob with all the other rich doctors," House snarked. Leaning his cane against a nearby chair, he extended his arms in what could only be described as an excruciatingly awkward hugging gesture. Gordon flinched, but forced herself to return the motion and close the remaining space between them. The two embraced briefly, then retreated to their own areas of personal space.

"Well that should last us another five years," Gordon remarked as she brushed the rumples out of her clothing. House made a vague grunting noise as he grabbed his cane and limped off in the direction of the coffee maker.

"How touching," Cuddy said, "The two of you act like you'd rather get the electric chair than be forced into human contact."

"You know how surgeons are –all cold and clinical," House said, "practically robots."

"I thought Cuddy said that a cardiologist was coming, not a surgeon," Chase said, "Was there some sort of a mistake?"

Gordon looked up from her clothing to give Chase a curious look. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and found an interesting spot on the carpet to stare at, shuffling his feet as he did so. "Blonde, Australian," Gordon said when she finished her once-over, "You must be Dr. Chase. I knew your father-" Chase's head shot up, but Gordon continued, unfazed, "-or knew of him, rather. I was sorry to hear of his passing. He was quite the doctor." Dropping his gaze to the floor once more, Chase gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

"Anyway, yes, I am a cardiologist. I'm also a surgeon. Cardiothoracic. It's funny how the American Medical Association requires people to know about hearts before they're allowed to cut them up."

In the opposite corner of the room Foreman snapped his fingers, startling all of the doctors out of their respective thoughts. "I remember you," he said, "You worked at Columbia."

"What a fun stint that was," Gordon said with a snort and a shake of her head, "Catering to a bunch of Ivy-League Med students who couldn't tell a vein from an artery if their lives depended on it. I won't have to do that here, will I?"

"There might be a few instructional sessions a month…" Cuddy trailed off.

"Perfect. Just give me a warning before they all flock –I want to have time to get my hazmat gear on." House said, "Don't want to run the risk of catching their stupid."

Foreman rolled his eyes and continued, "I remember that lecture you gave on valve replacement –it was brilliant."

"Apparently it wasn't brilliant enough to lure you into the fast-paced world of cardiology," Gordon said, "Shame, you'd have been good at it." As Foreman reveled in this small bit of praise Gordon's gaze settled on last of the fellows who had yet to speak. "You must be Dr. Cameron," she said as she studied the younger woman, "I don't know very much about you, but that's probably a good thing. Just goes to show that House hasn't managed to manipulate all aspects of my consciousness yet."

"How long have you known each other?" Cameron asked.

"We went to Hopkins together," Gordon said offhandedly, "got paired up in our first year Anatomy class, and the rest is history."

"You mean you stalked me in our first year Anatomy class until the professor was forced to pair us up." House corrected as he limped back to Gordon with a coffee cup in each hand. Without a word he passed one to her and took a gulp out of his own. "She was madly in love with me back then."

"I was madly in love with your car, egotistical pig." Gordon reminded him, "That thing was a hunk a junk, but what an engine! Zero to sixty quick as any top of the line car. Only problem was that the antenna would snap off every time you got up over thirty…"

"So you two dated?" Cameron asked, ignoring the hushed protests from Chase and Foreman.

"Hell, no!" House and Gordon exclaimed simultaneously.

"As if I would lower my standards-"

"-to such an extent as to date _her-_"

"-_him _when there were literally tens-"

"-of hundreds of other people-"

"-banging down my door to get to me. Honestly, what kind of a person do you take me for?

A stunned silence once again settled over the diagnostics lounge. After their combined outburst House and Gordon continued to drink their coffee as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The young doctors blinked at them in shock and Cuddy resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall.

Singing, she said, "I think I've just made the biggest mistake of my career."

"That's what you get for hiring world-renowned doctors," House said.

"Yeah, we're all total crackpots," Gordon added, "I hope you have good insurance. Now who gets to show me where the cafeteria is? I've got a lunch to pay for, after all."

"And that's my cue –minions, get to work on finding a new case; the famous surgeon and I are going to go load up on foodstuffs. Be back in an hour," House said as he speed-limped out of the door.

"Bugger is still too fast for me even with the cane," Gordon mumbled under her breath, "Well, it was nice meeting you all. Thanks for the badge and the labcoat, Cuddy –I'm off to catch a cripple." With a final nod to the remaining doctors, Gordon darted out of the door to catch up with House.

Once she was safely out of earshot Chase voiced the concern that was on everyone else's mind:

"Oh, God –there's two of them."

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A/N: Sorry that this took so long to get out. Life has been rather insane, but fear not –I am not dead and neither is this story! Part three is currently in progress. As always, reviews are nice, but I'm not going to force you to make one. 


	3. A Letter of Inquiry

Intrepid Readers,

If I were to revamp this story by re-writing the initial scenes entirely, would you continue to read it? The basic plot and premise would remain as they are, but the vast majority of the prose itself would be stripped bare & reassembled as I see fit. I'm sorry to have left you hanging for so long, but until now, I simply haven't had the will to do what needs to be done to this particular piece.

Get back to me, & I'll return the favor.

AQ


	4. A Final Note

Lovely, Wonderful, & Devoted Readers –

Thank you for all of your comments/reviews/feedback on my last letter. As some of you all might've noticed, I've decided to start this plot over with something that, I hope, is less full of fail. That said, you can find a reworked version of this whole entire shiny plotline over at Bluebird, Blackbird (it should be easy to find in my navigation). So, please, if you will, swap all of your updates/spam & such to that story, not this one. A few things have changed, and, as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Hope you enjoy,

Quill


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